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As I prepare to say goodbye to Berlin and about eighty percent of my belongings, I have taken my camera in hand and photographed all the artwork, posters and maps that are hanging in my apartment. I thought putting them all in a little gallery here would be the best way to preserve them. Some of the artwork is by two old friends of my mother’s, Shirin Begum and Ayse Domeniconi. I also have work by my friend Michaela Faber, plus a Tara Brooch that was given to me by one of my ‘angel people’ (angel people, according to writer Natalie Goldberg are people who come into your life when you need them most). There is a photograph of the waterfall near my family’s house in Ireland and a poster for an exhibition that was ripped from a lamppost by a visiting artist friend- ‘Reclaim Your City’. She ended up putting it on my bedroom door. These images tell some of the story of my life and my family’s life in Berlin and elsewhere. The first image is of the good old map of Berlin that hangs in my hallway:

‘Arid Hills’ by Shirin Begum. This painting is based on the beach at Gumusluk, Turkey where our family spent many summers.

‘Reclaim Your City’ claimed aptly, from a city lamppost and put on my bedroom door. And a poster I bought at the Haight Ashbury street fair in San Francisco.

‘Waiting for You’ by Shirin Begum. This painting has hung over my bed for the past decade!

Glass Engraved Image of Tara Brooch given to me by a very special angel guide

Pastel flowers by Ayse Domeniconi and acrylic on canvas ‘Die Brücke’ (The Bridge) This painting holds special significance for me and is described in my essay ‘Goodbye to Berlin’.

Shirin Begum

Photo of Coomhola Waterfall near my home in Ireland by Marc Holden.

More beautiful artwork by Ayse Domeniconi: ‘Bathers’ and an Egyptian couple in a lamp

Flora has carefully sown her seeds that will blossom in the spring watered tenderly by Zephyr, God of the west wind. She will not bare all too soon. She prepares herself for the long, cold retreat to the underworld where all is crisp and covered with ice. That same ice that does not feel as cold as winters past. Zephyr flies to her and adorns her with kisses and blossoms to give her strength. She slowly leaves the warm, wet place she wallowed in for too long with Satyr the goat man, in a fairy tale of unspoken words. Satyr remains cheerily chomping grasses in that wet fantasy land that she could never penetrate, so cloaked in clouds it was. She sees Venus shining ever brightly as her guide. Patience is the seed that will blossom for Flora in the end.<